Reminiscing
by The Sanders
Summary: OneShot. The war is finally over, and Hermione visits the grave of her Prince, and those that fell. Dark!Hermione


**Disclaimer: I own nothing, it all belongs to JKR**

**My other pen name is amishgirl281 and I am moving all of my one-shots from that account to this one after editing them of course. But please, read and review! I'd like to know what you think.**

The war was over, it was _finally_ over. Harry had killed the Dark Lord two weeks ago, and the Wizarding world hadn't stopped celebrating. They were finally free of the Dark Shadow that had plagued them for the past couple of decades.

But Hermione wasn't celebrating.

So many had died in the Final Battle, including Percy, Charlie and Molly Weasley, Minerva McGonagall, Albus Dumbledore, Neville Longbottom, and Severus Snape. Even Remus Lupin had gone to reunite with his childhood friends. The new Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, decided to create a graveyard as a memorial of sorts for all of those who died fighting in the last horrific battle, even those who had fought for the Dark Lord.

That is where Hermione currently stood, in the area where the Hero's of the Light were buried. But she had no tears for them. She had no tears for those who had used her, those who had treated her like a book with feet, those who had never appreciated her. She had no tears for those whom she had come to loathe and eventually betray.

She scowled and glared at the headstone of Albus Dumbledore, the greatest deceiver of all. He had told her that the Light had been the good side. He had told her that they would never fight evil with evil, he had told her that on the side of the Dark, there was no true acceptance, that you would be nothing more than a means to an end.

He had been wrong.

The truth was that he had needed her more then he had needed Harry. Sure, Harry was marked as the only one with the ability to defeat the Dark Lord, but that didn't mean he had the strength, means, or intelligence to do so. He needed her to help Harry, he had needed her to be his brains.

She had found out to late that it was the only thing they wanted from her, the only thing they cared about.

If only she had realized this sooner, things might have been different.

She walked down to the headstone of Severus Snape and stared at his grave. He had been her one friend, her one confidant in the Order, after she had turned to the Dark Lord of course. She always found it amusing that all those times Harry and Ron had accused him of being untrustworthy, they had been right, but that was something they would never know. At least when it came to those in the Order, Hermione was the only one that knew where his loyalties truly lay, and he was the only one that knew hers.

She took out one red rose from the bouquet she was holding, and placed it on his grave. She owed so much to him. He had been the one to truly introduce her to _him._ She smiled as memories flooded her mind and she unconsciously rubbed the area on her arm where the Dark Mark was secretly concealed under a Glamour Charm. After the fall of the Dark Lord, the Dark Mark had lost its power, and could be easily removed but she hadn't wanted to remove it. It was the last thing she had of him, or at least the last physical reminder.

She took one last look at her fallen friend, and moved to the area where the Dark Lord's fallen servants were buried. She approached the grave of her fallen Prince and the tears began to fall from her eyes. She didn't bother to look around for any wandering eyes; she already knew there were none. No one ever bothered to visit this area, not even the friends, family, and lovers of the dead. Those who hadn't been put into Azkaban had claimed ignorance and repulsion when their friends and loved ones were named as Death Eaters.

She softly placed the roses on the packed dirt, and placed a single kiss on the stone. She took out her wand and quickly vanished away all of the dirt and moss that had dared to grow anywhere near her Prince's grave. She knew she wouldn't be able to count on his wife or son to keep his grave clean. In order to keep what little they had of their good name, they feigned ignorance and they would have cut him out of their family completely if he hadn't been the head of the household.

Lucius Malfoy, her Prince, had been murdered at the hands of Harry, something Hermione knew she would never forgive him for. She had been his mistress for almost two years prior to his death. Severus had introduced the two properly, just before she had taken the dark mark.

She had always been attracted to Malfoy Sr., ever since she had met him in Flourish and Blotts that one day. She had even blushed when he held her gaze at the Quidditch World Cup in her fourth year. They were an unlikely pair, extremely mismatched, but she loved him none the less.

He had said once, that the only reason he had taken her to his bed that first night so long ago, was because of her beauty and her obvious stubbornness. He had said that she was a challenge, and he had enjoyed breaking her and molding her into his perfect mistress. But later he had said that the reason he _kept_ her in his bed, was for her presence, her sent, her willingness to be dominated and controlled by him, her love and devotion to him, and her spirit.

She had moved into his Manor not long after the first initial meeting. Narcissa had long since abandoned his area of the Manor, and Draco was never around, and Hermione never thought to ask where he had been. She had kept her flat for show; after all, she couldn't let any of the Order know with whom she was spending all of her free time.

Over time, she had learned to regard the Manor as her home, even though she was merely a guest. She had free reign, as long as she was never seen by Narcissa. Lucius was gone most day's at the Ministry, lining Fudge's pockets with galleons so he would get his idea's made into law. Many nights he came back angry, and Hermione would turn into his personal whipping boy, not that she minded of course.

It was one of the reason's Severus had introduced them in the first place. Hermione had figured out a long time ago that she loved pain; she even craved it at times. She had been a virgin when she had met Lucius, but that didn't mean she was oblivious to what she did and did not enjoy.

Her vision became blurry and she knew her eyes were red and puffy, but she couldn't stop crying. He had been her reason for living, and now he was gone. She had nothing of his, only her memories, her mark, and the vault of money he had given her before the battle in case something like this should happen.

She heard fireworks going off in the distance. She didn't understand how people could be celebrating when so many were still mourning. She kissed the gravestone one more time and began to leave the cemetery. Harry and Ron were waiting for her in the Three Broomsticks so they could have a celebratory Butterbeer, but right now she was leaning more towards Fire Whiskey.

She never wanted to see those two boy's she had once called her friends again. They had betrayed her and killed her lover. She smiled, however, as she turned her thoughts to sweet revenge. She had something planned out for them. After all, she was the brightest witch of her age.


End file.
